


Stripping Off

by Emelye



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alcohol, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emelye/pseuds/Emelye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One person knows all about Xander's 'work' at the Fabulous Ladies Club because he was there but he's not about to say anything...unless he gets drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stripping Off

Rebecca had been the first. She wasn’t among the Slayers fighting in Sunnydale, nearly twenty-two when she was called. Married, even. She’d embraced the power she’d been given, until one year later, while on leave to start a family, she found herself unable to conceive. A year later two other young women were similarly afflicted. Then they met Bethany, a sixteen-year-old girl who miscarried the day she was called. One by one, girls began to come forward with similar confessions. With dread, all the Slayers were examined medically and magically.

Willow wept for days when it was determined that the construction of the spell that activated the slayers affected them to the core of their sex, rendering each woman infertile. For some, the news came as a relief; for the large majority too young or single to contemplate motherhood, it was something altogether abstract. But for far, far too many it was a tragic loss, one they’d been desperate to remedy.

 

In the end, it had been Xander to suggest the Great Rite, which surprised exactly no one who recalled his fondness for Dürer’s woodcuttings. They’d all worn similar thoughtful expressions, Giles and Willow likely sharing the same inner dialogue, reviewing the requirements of the ritual and the elements likely to adapt best to their needs. 

Willow tapped her finger on her teeth. “It wouldn’t require much, just substituting the Scythe for the athame, I think, and the words to apply the magic to the Slayer line—”

“Without resulting in each Slayer spontaneously conceiving,” he felt compelled to add. Pondering the other implications of the spell, he said, “Of course you realize this spell is intended to be performed by those already sharing an intimate relationship.”

 

Which is how Buffy, Willow and Xander came to be in his rooms, possessed of a great quantity of liquor. Willow swayed to the music from his unearthed hi-fi as they watched, mesmerized. Buffy, ever the bold one, wrapped an arm around her waist and began to move with her in a parody of lovemaking. Their lips touched almost as an afterthought. Giles smiled softly. 

Passing around a spliff, Buffy giggled as Giles nipped at her neck, took in her dark eyes as she inhaled, then kissed her soundly, letting the smoke pass between them. Every part of her was tight and athletic, her tongue, her teeth, the coiled energy in her belly that trembled as his fingertips brushed against it. He was achingly hard. 

Xander, for all that he’d suggested the ritual, remained aloof. There were no stolen kisses from Buffy, nor teasing looks directed his way, which he only partially attributed to heterosexual reticence. His eyes cut away from Willow when she laughed. He took the spliff solemnly and without coughing, took a swallow from the bottle at his knee and passed it forthwith back to Giles.

“Xander?” he asked. “Is everything all right?”

Xander smiled tightly and nodded, staring wistfully at the girls.

Giles leant closer and spoke humidly into the shell of his ear. “You know you’ll have to take them,” he said, eyes not leaving the flirtatious dance between the women. “They know it, Xander. You’ll not be accused of anything.”

Xander let out a ragged breath. “Yeah.”

“So perhaps you ought to give Willow a kiss, eh?”

Xander turned his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Whyever not?”

Xander smirked self-deprecatingly. “I don’t want—I mean, this isn’t. _Giles_. Look. I know what you all think of me, but I wasn’t looking to get a piece like this.”

Giles blinked against the haze in his brain as he took in what Xander was saying. “You wish to be desired,” he clarified.

Another of those horrible smiles and an angry swig from the bottle. “Reciprocal and consensual guy, that’s me.”

Giles rolled his eyes, placed a hand on Xander’s neck where the skin was hot and flushed, and pulled until he could snog him properly. And it was a proper snog, Giles made sure of that. Xander whimpered as their lips met and Giles grinned through the kiss, applying pressure and caressing the damp strands of hair curled against his neck, taking control and making sure there was no question of “reciprocal” interest. Xander, for his part, kissed hungrily, needily, and his moans settled in the small of his back, sending shivers up his spine.

He became aware of the girls’ scrutiny and gently broke the kiss. Xander was flushed and wide-eyed.

“What was _that_?” Buffy asked.

“Hot,” Willow responded. 

Giles had taken another hit and laughed on the exhale. “Too bloody right,” he confirmed, pecking Willow’s flushed cheek. “Surprised, are you?”

Buffy gave Xander a measuring look that didn’t go unnoticed by Giles. “Buffy, honestly, we’ve worked together this long and you’ve never considered—?”

Buffy shook her head. “No.”

“ _Never_?” Giles clarified. “I do recall several very memorable days on the Sunnydale Swim Team that Cordelia couldn’t stop talking about, even when I offered to pay her.”

He didn’t wait for her response. A drunken revelation: “Xander, have you ever offered to show the girls how you spent your summer vacation in Oxnard?”

Xander gave a panicked cough. “Giles, please don’t do this.”

“You never even told them you danced?”

“We inferred,” Willow confided.

“Oh, god,” Xander moaned, reaching for the bottle and coming up empty.

“Quite well, actually. I was there. I suppose you wouldn’t have known that either.”

“Wait,” said Buffy, “You saw Xander strip?”

“Please, stop. I beg you,” Xander pleaded.

Giles finally addressed him, sobering up and irritated for it. “Xander, if I thought it was within my capacity to embarrass you more thoroughly than you could embarrass yourself, I’d be looking for corresponding portents of an apocalypse.” He leaned closer to Xander, only partially aware of the girls drawing nearer to catch his words. “I don’t want to humiliate you Xander. I want to show them. Because if you shag half as well as you dance, and Anya assured me repeatedly that was the case, then I believe you’ll see _exactly_ how desired you are.”

Xander sighed in defeat. Giles rummaged in the liquor cabinet for another bottle.

“Wait, you were in Oxnard?” Willow asked Giles. “I spent that summer cataloguing the Sunnydale library and you were getting lap dances?”

Giles dissembled. “Well, not exactly. That is, I wasn’t intending—”

Xander grinned and leaned back on his elbows, thoroughly enjoying the conversation’s turn. “Yeah, Giles, what _were_ you doing there in the first place?”

 

What he was doing in Oxnard was equal parts book buying and checking up on Xander, once he’d ascertained the boy hadn’t made it out of the state before his tragically bad luck had rendered his vehicle immobile. He thought it would be in everyone’s best interest to make sure Xander was faring alright, without any undue interference the young man would be sure to resent—however much the concern was warranted or secretly appreciated. Or _his_ concern, at any rate, since neither of the girls had the first idea that either of them were in Oxnard and, apparently, to be found at a disreputable establishment known as the _Fabulous Ladies Nightclub_.

What really struck him about the _Fabulous Ladies_ was that there didn’t appear to be a lady in sight. Not on the rickety stage or in the filthy bar. That didn’t appear to be a problem for the patrons, however, queuing up for their glimpse of the fabulous ladies on stage, nightly.

And sitting in the audience of the seedy club, awaiting the promised performance of “Alex,” he intended to keep it that way. He wasn’t sure in that moment which of them would be more humiliated if exposed, but he was surely the only one of them who could drink, and he intended to do so. With aplomb.

Six fingers and four dancers later, the lights were swirling very prettily above his head and a not insubstantial bulge had taken residence in his trousers, courtesy of “Robert,” a very gifted dancer and extortionist. (Though he’d deny it to his grave, privately Giles considered the lap dance to be worth every penny of the fifty he’d tucked beneath the strap of his lamé g-string.)

The lights faded. A cane back chair appeared beneath a single spotlight. A distinctive bass line and then, from the back, came Xander.

“ _Dig if you will, the picture  
Of you and I engaged in a kiss  
The sweat of your body covers me  
Can you my darling, can you picture this_?”

It was a clever getup, Giles had to admit. The white trousers and suspenders over a bare chest. The heavily kohled eyes. Even a bowler. He’d not realized Xander shared his appreciation of Kubric’s work.

Xander’s arms thrust to his sides, and his head turned in time to the music. He swung the chair around and straddled it while rolling his bowler down his bare arm. Legs still splayed, he removed the chair from between his legs and brought it around until he sat on the edge, leaning back, hands caressing down his sides as he removed his suspenders.

“ _How can you just leave me standing  
Alone in a world that's so cold?  
Maybe I'm just too demanding  
Maybe I'm just like my father, too bold_.”

Giles found himself stunned. He’d no idea Xander could dance. Certainly not as if he knew what he was doing. These weren’t the awkward motions of a boy still growing into his body, but the movements of a man intimately familiar with his own capabilities, comfortable in his own skin. 

And it was unbelievably sexy.

“ _Touch if you will, my stomach  
Feel how it trembles inside…_ ”

His finger trailed down his stomach before he undulated onto his feet and in one smooth motion, stripped his trousers off entirely, throwing them to the side of the stage. Underneath, a simple white pouch, which was more than sufficient to showcase both the exquisite tan on those well-defined hipbones and the generous endowment between muscular thighs that appeared cast from bronze.

Xander knelt upon the stage, eyes closed, body rhythmically and suggestively arching and writhing. He couldn’t see Giles adjust himself in his pants, hand lingering perhaps longer than necessary as he took in the picture of a young man, flush with exertion and glowing under the lights.

Xander’s eyes opened on the last line of the song and with sudden and mutual shock, Xander caught Giles’ slightly glazed stare.

The stage plunged into darkness and the number ended.

 

“And then what happened?” Willow asked.

Xander swallowed heavily. “I got my stuff out of the back and Giles drove me home.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Buffy asked. 

“Well, to be fair, he was only recently my student. It didn’t seem—”

“I was eighteen Giles,” Xander reminded him. “It’s okay. I appreciate the walk down memory lane, but you don’t need to lie. You’re not attracted to me. It’s okay, I’m used to it. Hey, it’s probably a good thing, considering. We’ve always worked well together. Sex complicates things.”

“Bloody hell, Xander, haven’t you listened to a damn thing I’ve said?”

Buffy made a dubious noise. Giles turned to look at her. “Well, Giles, I mean, he has a point.”

“Buffy, what the hell?” Willow rounded on her, and then brightened. “I mean, good point! I mean, how irresistible could he be if he did all that and all he gets is a ride home?”

“Not very convincing,” Buffy chimed in.

Giles hid his smile behind his hand. “There really is only one way to settle this debate.”

Xander growled and stomped over to the stereo, plugging in his iPod and setting the track, muttering under his breath all the while. He took a fortifying swallow from the bottle and accepted a hit from the proffered grass. Then the music started.

“ _I've been really tryin', baby  
Tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long…_ ”

The rhythm started in his hip as he stomped his heel in time to the beat. He started on the top button of his shirt, almost angrily. Giles wondered how he’d fare without tear-away clothes, but he was doing an admirable job of drawing out the tease, swiveling his hips and licking his lips suggestively. At the chorus, the shirt was removed and tossed his direction with a challenging look. 

With barely a pause, Xander flicked open his fly and slowly drew down the zipper, extended his arm to the floor lamp as a makeshift stripper pole and gave his hips a sudden shake, dropping his trousers to the floor.

He swung the lamp and dipped it before straddling it in his tight black trunks and beginning to undulate while still maintaining the same dip-and-swivel dance he’d begun. Finally, he replaced the lamp and crossed one leg behind the other before turning and bending at the waist, presenting a frankly lovely view of his arse, and pulled at the legs of his underwear, stripping off as he stood back up, re-crossing his legs and then turning back to face them in all his glory.

“Whoa, mama,” said Buffy.

Willow agreed non-verbally, fingers tracing the outline of her breasts through her cotton blouse.

“Irresistible,” Giles confirmed, as he moved between Xander’s legs and with little warning, took the heavy flesh of Xander’s cock in hand and began to suck him off, managing to catch him around the legs before his knees buckled and lowering him to the floor. A rustling of clothes behind him indicated the women were similarly resolved and the soft sounds of moaning and kissing spurred his actions further. 

In spite of their long acquaintance, or perhaps because of it, there was something uniquely comfortable to their activities that he’d not anticipated. It felt familiar.

It felt randy as hell. He turned slightly, licking up the side of Xander’s shaft so that he could observe the girls who had removed their clothing and were rather frantically humping on his sofa.

Xander managed to lift his head and let out a tortured moan as he caught sight of them. Giles lowered his head and took his prick into the back of his throat. Xander let out a muffled shout and bucked his hips.

He’d not given much thought to his own erection until he registered silence behind him and a moment later, his zip was being lowered and a small, forceful tongue was working the head of his cock. He groaned around Xander and drew an answering sound from the boy. Xander withdrew from his mouth with a ‘pop’ and sat up, tugging his jumper up and over his head. Small fingers drew his slacks and trunks down and off. 

Buffy’s hands were all over him. He’d forgotten what a tactile drunk she could be. “Giles, fuck me,” she instructed. 

He grinned and trailed a finger through her moist folds, bringing it to his mouth and sucking her flavor from the digit. “Happily,” he said, lowering her on her side beside Xander and rucking her leg above his arm, sheathing himself inside her slick, tight heat. As he returned his mouth to the task of sucking Xander off, Willow lowered herself onto Xander’s face, his tongue questing upward and flicking her clitoris.

Buffy clenched around his cock and his orgasm startled him, as he hadn’t realized how close he was. A moment’s concern for their position and Buffy shook her head and dug her heels in as he came. 

Xander lifted Willow off his face and set her beside Buffy who resumed the task with renewed enthusiasm. Willow arched and gasped and set her fingers flying on Buffy’s mound, drawing a loud and enthusiastic climax from the slayer before succumbing to her own. 

Giles reclined on his elbow, watching their glowing, writhing bodies and didn’t notice Xander’s approach until his large hands were cradling his face and he was being kissed. There was mischief in the boy’s eyes, then a slick finger found his rear, and he was shuddering around it. “Oh, _god_ ,” he moaned, hoping Xander knew what he was about. “Oh, fuck, yes!” he cried as another finger breached him and crooked upward to massage his prostate, answering the unasked question. 

Xander let out a wicked chuckle and the sound nearly undid him. He was unbelievably, miraculously hard again. As the head of Xander’s cock entered him, he grew seriously concerned another orgasm might send him into cardiac arrest. He laughed, fatally.

Xander thrust home. “God, oh, god,” he cried.

Willow’s lips were on Giles’ and then on his prick, and his hands were fisted in red hair that felt like silk. Xander grunted with the effort of keeping his thrusts slow and measured.

“C’mon, Xander, give it to me,” he goaded. Suddenly Xander gasped and thrust forward hard and fast. 

Buffy giggled and Xander trembled against Giles’ back as he adjusted to the feeling of the small plug inside him. “Toys are _cheating_ , Buff,” said Xander.

Giles chuckled, no longer regretting Buffy’s accidental discovery of his toy box. Xander moaned. “Everyone, please _stop_ ,” Xander pleaded. “I’m gonna come.”

“Sorry,” said Buffy. “Oh, wait, no I’m not.” 

Giles heard the buzz as the plug began to vibrate and suddenly Xander was pounding into Giles’ ass, a litany of whimpers beside his ear as he folded over him, “Sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry, gonna come.”

Meanwhile, Willow had opened her throat and was humming as Xander’s movements sent Giles thrusting into her mouth. He couldn’t withstand the assault on his senses any longer and came, arse clenching with the force of his orgasm and bringing forth an answering shout from Xander who followed him over the edge immediately after. 

 

He woke late, in a surprisingly comfortable tangle of bodies on his bed. Buffy was spooned up behind him, Willow nestled under his chin, and Xander’s large arm thrown over the lot.

Despite the horrible taste in his mouth and the headache he could feel building behind his right eye, it wasn’t a terrible state to be in, and so Giles pulled the covers up over them all and went back to sleep.

 

On the following Tuesday, skyclad under the light of a full moon, they performed the Great Rite. Though in some ways more staid than that first excited coupling, there was a great feeling of familiarity, love, and trust. He was grateful to have experienced it, however unfortunate the circumstances. 

Arm in arm, they returned to their vehicles, shrugging on clothes and oddly silent. When the girls had left, Xander turned to him, keys in hand and an endearingly hopeful expression on his face. 

“Shower at my place?” he asked.

Giles smiled. “Did I ever tell you about the time I stripped? It was at a pub on the East End, mid-seventies as I recall.”

Xander stared at him. “No. You didn’t.”

“Oh. Didn’t I?” He replied, casually. “Must have slipped my mind.” He took the keys from Xander and climbed the embankment toward the idling Vauxhall, smiling as he went. “I suppose we’ll have something to talk about then.”

The End


End file.
